


c'mon baby, don't fear the reaper

by anathemis



Series: and here you are living, despite it all [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Come Eating, Curtain Fic, Demon Dean Winchester, Homophobic Language, M/M, Marking, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ownership, Possessive Dean Winchester, Scared Sam Winchester, Scary Dean Winchester, Sibling Incest, Smut, Submissive Sam Winchester, Violence, Wincest - Freeform, Wincestiel - Freeform, deanmon, minor wincestiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-09-18 19:49:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20318545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathemis/pseuds/anathemis
Summary: Sam, Dean, and Castiel finally agree that enough is enough, especially after Sam is kidnapped and Dean, in his demonic state, can't find him for days, becoming too possessive in the process and resulting in unnecessary deaths. Maybe it's finally time to retire...//Part one of, 'and here you are living, despite it all'.





	1. 1.

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror at Dean in the backseat of the Impala, handcuffed to the door, recounting the events of the last few hours; Crowley had given Dean up in return for the First Blade, Dean ended up not killing Cole and now Sam was driving Dean home to attempt to cure him. Apparently, Sam was mistaken in thinking that Dean not killing Cole was mercy, and was quickly put right by his demonic brother sat only 3ft to his right. If he was being honest with himself, Dean's words scared him much more than he'd like to admit, but he forced that down and increased his speed slightly, driving quickly to the bunker, the cure repeating in his head like a mantra. He has to save his brother. He must. He needs to.

-

Sam had his back to Dean, syringe deep inside the blood packs he stole and pulling the plunger up slowly. This was Dean's fourth injection but it only seemed to be hurting him, not healing. Sam sighed, pulling the depressor out of the half-empty bag and approached Dean slowly. Dean was just staring at him with those raven black eyes, smirking and shuffling in his seat. Paying him no mind, Sam went to force the needle into Dean's pale and bruised-blue skin when he felt teeth latch onto his neck, just below his ear, biting down hard.

He yelped and pulled back, dropping the syringe in the process and looked at Dean in horror. The edges of Dean's mouth was coated with strawberry red blood, staining his lips. Sam immediately drew a hand to his neck, feeling the wetness and choked slightly.

"Dean, what the _hell_?!" He shouted, mortified and blushing at his brother's actions.

"I did say I was gonna rip your throat out with my teeth." He smirked again and Sam, blushing at his carelessness and splashed Dean with holy water before leaving the room in long, quick strides, ignoring Dean's echoing laughter following him, mixing with deep growls of pain.

-

15 minutes later, Sam was walking back to the dungeon, a fresh gauze taped to the deep teeth marks on the side of his neck. He'd washed it out thoroughly and then spent the next 10 minutes staring at his reflection in the mirror, debating on whether or not to call Cass up for aid, considering the cure didn't seem to be helping.

In the end, he decided not to, knowing there was no point; Cass was busy with Heaven and a horde of other problems and had already said he was on his way. I can do this myself, he thought. I have to, for Dean's sake.

Sam sighed again and turned the corner into the dungeon before stopping dead in his tracks. Dean was gone. Oh God, Dean was loose in the bunker. And he wanted to kill Sam.

Sam's breath hitched in fear before he turned and left the room, making his way to the middle of the bunker, listening closely for signs of Dean, peeking around every corner. Finally, he reached the drawer he needed, slowly pulling it open and grabbing the keyring of keys from it, sliding it shut gently.

He made his way around the bunker light-footed, ignoring Dean's shouts, taunting him and trying to scare him. He hated himself for it, but they actually worked.

He arrived at his destination, pushing the Electrical room door open and quickly turned the bunker to Lockdown mode, leaving the room as quickly as he came and once again, sneaking around the bedrooms and numerous undiscovered hallways. At this moment, he had never been more scared of Dean.

Sam, however, knew he'd be able to trap Dean again, luring him to the Electrical room and locking the door behind him.

"Sammy! Let me out!" Dean's voice wasn't filled with anger, but a teasing and light tone. "Let's talk about this."

"I don't want to kill you, Dean, but I will. This isn't you, you're human, you're _good_," Sam brandished the demon knife in his good hand - his weak hand - and slowly backed away from the door.

"Nah, you won't. This is all me, little brother." Dean replied, before beginning to smash the door down with the hammer. Sam gulped at the sight of the wooden door caving under the brutal force of Dean's demon strength. What would he do now?

"C'mon Sammy, you don't think you'll be able to cure me, do you? I don't want to be cured!"

Sam and Dean made eye contact through the splintered wood before Sam turned and ran, and the last of the door came down under Dean's hammer.

Sam was at a loss. He can't keep running from Dean forever, can he? It would be impossible. He continued sneaking through the bunker, his mind turning new and better ways to trap Dean, but coming up short. He paused at the end of a hallway and peeped around it, listening closely for Dean but not hearing him. He relaxed slightly and leaned against the wall before seeing a flash of movement in the corner of his eye.

He ducked, turned and held the knife to Dean's throat, letting the hammer crash into the drywall where his head had been a matter of seconds prior.

"Do it," Dean whispered, pushing his neck into the blade.

Sam stopped again, unable to push the blade any further. His eyes met Dean's again and he swallows down his fear. Why was he scared? This was his brother. Albeit, his demon brother, but his brother nonetheless.

Dean was still slightly smirking, the corner of his mouth lifting, teasing and taunting still.

Sam froze for a long moment, blade still held against the pale expanse of his brother's neck. He breathed out and dropped his arm, stepping slightly away from Dean, his fear returning ten-fold. He just can't kill his brother.

"Tut-tut," Dean clicked his tongue, pushing Sam into the wall behind him and placing a possessive hand over the gauze covering the painful bite mark on his neck. "Well, what do we have here?"

Dean leans in close, inhaling near Sam's neck, licking a gentle stripe behind his ear. Sam swallowed audibly, his breath quickening, leaning away from his brother.

Dean hummed, nosing at the gauze and peeling the tape off with his fingers. "You smell like fear," he whispered, roughly grabbing the back of Sam's hair with his other hand. "Mine," he growled, directly into Sam's ear. "All mine."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided to continue it after all. :] i just love demon dean being possessive over sammy! please enjoy.

Sam lay curled up under his bed cover, silent tears running down his face. He had failed his brother time and time again, and this was just another one of those awful times where nothing ever went the way it should. After the strange encounter in the hallway, Dean simply tapped his cheek with an evil grin, pulled the rest of the gauze off of his neck and walked away, calling over his shoulder, "supper's at 7! Don't be late." When Dean turned the corner, Sam finally released his breath, placed a hand on his neck and quickly walked to his bedroom, trying to not let the tears fall in case he runs into Dean again.

Now here he was, more than an hour later, fresh ACE bandages taped to his bite mark and huge tears running down his cheeks. I am weak, he thought, too weak to even help my brother. I am a failure. Unclean. Weak.

The words spun in his head and he got lost among them, retreating into the safer parts of his mind. He knew he couldn't run, couldn't ask Castiel for help. This was his problem and his alone, and he had to fix it. For now, he was trapped inside the bunker with a demon that claimed to no longer be his brother, and he couldn't do anything about it. Resisting is a bad idea, considering Dean had a strength advantage being a powerful demon and all, and trying to run would just cause him further harm.

Suddenly dragged out of the depths of his thoughts by his door slamming, he yanked the duvet off and looked at Dean standing in the doorway. He tried to wipe his tears away inconspicuously, deep-seated fear returning once again.

"Sammy! What do you think you're doing?" Dean sounded angry, but Sam had no idea why.

"Uh, nothing, why do you ask?" He pathetically stuttered his way through the half-assed response, confused, his eyes flicking to the alarm clock on his side. Seeing the numbers 7:15 glaring blood-red in the dark room, he gasped. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, I wasn't-"

"Wasn't paying attention, right?" Dean approached Sam and stood at the end of the bed, rage filling his eyes. "What did I say earlier?"

"Um, don't be late," Sam replied, standing from his bed, uncomfortable with the height advantage that Dean had while he was sat down. "I'm really sorry Dean, please don't kill me."

Dean laughed mockingly and grabbed Sam's arm, pulling him from the room.

"Don't be late, that's right," Dean said, ignoring Sam's flinch away from him, "then why are you?"

Sam couldn't form a coherent response and delegated instead to follow Dean to the kitchen. He heard Dean's chuckle and his steps faltered but Dean just tugged his arm again, grip tight and unrelenting.

"C'mon, you need some food in you," was all Dean said before directing Sam to the bench in the kitchen. Only when the plate filled with numerous different foods was placed in front of him did Sam realise how hungry he actually was. His stomach rumbled loudly and he looked down in embarrassment.

Dean just chuckled again and ruffled his hair before sitting on the bench across from him, never letting his eyes leave Sam.

Sam unwittingly flinched away from Dean's touch again, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Was the food poisoned? Was Dean only showing him kindness so that he could kill him in his sleep later? What was going on?

Seemingly sensing his thoughts, Dean picked up his fork for him and placed it in his hand, saying, "It's not poisoned or anything Sammy, eat it."

Knowing how typically good Dean's food was, Sam sighed and began eating, not really caring at this point whether it was poisoned or not. At least then he could escape this new fresh level of hell. Throughout the meal, Sam could feel Dean's eyes on him. He looked up a few times to confirm whether he was still looking and every time, he immediately looked down again when he made eye contact with Dean. Otherwise, he dug into the tasty food, enjoying what could be his last meal. At least Dean didn't kill him just for being 15 minutes late to the meal.

"A-are you not eating?" Sam asked, towards the end of finishing his plate.

"Oh, I don't need to, being a demon and all," Dean replied, smirking, "I don't even really need to drink beer anymore, but I still do."

Speaking of, Dean stood from the bench and walked over to the fridge for beer and Sam heaved a breath of relief, finally being able to eat without Dean watching his every move. He moved to stab a piece of meat with his fork.

After a few seconds, he heard a bottle shatter against the wall, beer and glass exploding everywhere. Sam put his arms up to protect his face and looked to Dean for an explanation. Dean was livid, and Sam had no idea why.

Dean stormed over to him and reached for his neck again. Thinking he is going to be choked, Sam leans away and tries to stand up but Dean places a heavy hand on his shoulder, forcing him to sit down. His other hand goes for the bitemark, roughly grabbing the medical tape and ripping it off his neck, the gauze coming away too.

Sam cried out when the scab was ripped from his neck and the wound wept with blood again, confused and scared. What was Dean doing?

Dean threw the bandage in the broad direction of the bin before forcing Sam's head to turn.

"Look at me," Dean said. Sam shook his head. "Look at me, Sammy."

Sam finally looked in Dean's direction, seeing his eyes filled with a strange possessiveness and anger.

"You are _mine_, you hear me?" Sam immediately felt helpless. "This mark proves that," Dean said, gesturing to the teeth indents on his neck, "you. Are. Mine."

Sam could only nod, Dean's growling and threatening voice filling his every being.

"You are not allowed to cover this up. Ever. I want people to know that you are mine. No one else will take you. I will look after you." Dean's voice turned protective and soft towards the end, looking at Sam fiercely.

Sam was perplexed. He already felt inferior, but he wasn't an object or small child that needed protection. He was an adult, fully capable of looking after himself. Did Dean see him as weak too?

Dean grinned, his mood immediately flipping, and leaned in to kiss Sam's hairline like he used to when they were young kids in the backseat of the Impala, nursing their hunting injuries together, Sam curled into Dean's side. Oh, how he missed his big brother.

He picked up the plate, taking it to the sink and began washing it, leaving Sam sat on the bench, his heart thudding and reverberating inside his skull. Dean began humming a random Metallica song whose name Sam couldn't quite recall at that moment so he stood from the bench and walked into the library, determined to research a way to cure his brother. For now, he just had to stay out of his way and not anger him. That shouldn't be too hard, right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it seems that i just can't stop writing this fic... no smut yet, but there may be some later. depends on how this turns out. ;) thanks for reading!

Later that night, Sam was stood in front of the small cracked mirror in his bedroom, head turned slightly to the left to allow him to see the mark residing on his neck. It was turning a putrid shade of blue-black-purple, spotted with green, and occasionally oozed a small droplet of blood if he moved his head too much. When Dean first tore that bandage over his neck, he didn't know it meant he wanted his ownership brand to be paraded around. He just thought it was Dean's new way of messing with him. When he heard that bottle shatter against the wall, however, he truly thought that Dean was going to kill him, and he was none the wiser as to why. The longer he stared at the mark, the more intense the strange feeling in his stomach grew, like his core was being powered by knowing that Dean owned him in every way possible. Sam didn't know what the curling heat in the pit of his innards meant, but he guessed it wasn't good. He even prayed that it didn't mean that he liked Dean's mark.

Speaking of praying, Sam had been shouting out for Castiel ever since that moment in the hallway, silently and yet screaming his prayers inside his mind. The bunker, however, as he knew, was warded completely. He wouldn't know if Castiel was even stood outside the door, so that was hopeless. Summoning Crowley had flitted through his mind a few times but it left as quickly as it came; why would Crowley help Sam more than he already had when Dean was his responsibility? And, since that moment in the kitchen, Dean had barely left his side, even going as far to knock on the bathroom door if Sam was taking too long. That meant that any research he tried to get in when Dean wasn't looking was insubstantial and meaningless. It was as if Dean was constantly looking over his shoulder, or at least creepily eyeing him from across the library. He had yet to get a few moments of quiet but when Dean stood to get more beer, he took his chance and ran-walked to his bedroom, hoping for even just 5 minutes peace of mind. He was constantly tiptoeing around Dean, wondering if he would accidentally drop a word or phrase that would make Dean launch across the room, First Blade in hand, and plunge it into his chest. It was exhausting.

So far, he was safe. Well, not safe, but okay, at least. The silence, however, didn't last long.

"Sammy! There you are! Admiring your mark, are you?" Dean's voice, as always these last few hours, held a light and teasing tone.

Sam jumped at the voice and turned to look at Dean, watching his eyes flicker from that same shade of nothingness to his usual apple green. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

"N-no," Sam said, and dropped his hand from his neck. Dean wasn't fooled and walked impossibly close to Sam, inches away, even sharing their breaths.

"Don't lie to me, Sammy. You wouldn't like what I do to you," Dean replied while reaching a hand out to brush his fingertips over his injured neck. His fingers were startlingly cold compared to his swollen and red flesh, making him shudder. Dean might've mistaken it for pleasure or even fear, but it didn't matter anymore; he did it again while leaning in and nibbling on Sam's ear lobe.

Sam gulped, petrified of what Dean would do if he moved away, but also petrified of the growing feelings he had regarding Dean at this moment; every movement that Dean made caused all of those repressed feelings to flood back, the ones that he'd forced down from the age of 12, when he finally learned that loving your brother this way wasn't normal and was, in fact, quite frowned upon and illegal. His heart broke that fateful day, and he would never forget it. Dean suckling on his ear caused his cheeks to grow flushed and his breath stutter.

Dean chuckled around his ear lobe, releasing it with his teeth before gently biting down on his neck in the same place as before. Sam groaned out in pain, grappling the wall beside the mirror.

"Dean, please stop," Sam whispered, "this isn't you."

Dean bit down harder, just enough to make it bleed again, obviously enjoying Sam's blatant pain before licking the blood from his neck.

"Oh, it is, Sammy. I don't care if you don't like it. Just remember that you are mine, and there is nothing you can do about it." Dean began suckling just above Sam's collarbone and Sam reached out with his other hand, placing it on Dean's chest, pulling him closer and yet pushing him as far away as possible at the same time. This isn't how it was supposed to happen, Sam cried inside his mind. One of Dean's hands wrapped itself around his hip bone, digging the fingers in deep, and Sam inhaled sharply.

After sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, Dean leaned back and brought his face in front of Sam's. "You love being owned by me, don't you?"

Sam shook his head minutely, closing his eyes tightly, not wanting to see Dean's satisfied face.

"Yes, you do," Dean said, leaning in even closer, allowing his lips to gently brush against Sam's. Sam whined quietly and tightened his grip on the front of his brother's shirt.

Suddenly all contact was lost and Dean managed to rip his t-shirt from Sam's fisted hand. Sam keened at the sudden loss of human contact, reaching his hand out while finally opening his eyes. Standing before him, Dean was yet again smirking, looking like the cat that got the cream. Sam glared at his brother, hating that he made him feel so weak and yet so loved at the same time. It was evil, for lack of a better word.

"I'm going out, little brother. If you even try to leave, I will know, and if you do leave, I will hunt you down and kneecap you so badly that you'll never be able to walk away from me again. You got that? _Mine_." Dean whispered the last word, allowing his eyes to turn black for just a moment again, before turning and leaving the room.

A few minutes later, Sam heard the bunker entrance slam shut, and he finally breathed a sigh of relief. What was that all about? Whatever it was, Sam felt guilty for liking it so much. He hated his brother for making him feel this way, so powerless and insignificant with a few short actions.

Turning to the mirror again, he pulled his flannel down slightly to see a purple bruise just above his collarbone. It seems Dean has a hidden kink for marking, Sam thought bitterly and sarcastically, before grabbing the towel from the end of his bed and quickly walking to the shower.

If he knew anything about this Dean, he was probably out to kill someone, meaning he could either be a few minutes or a few hours. However long it takes, Sam knew he was going to take advantage of not being stared at constantly and decided to take a shower. He at least needed to wash his neck after being re-opened by Dean. Sam sighs and begins stripping his clothing slowly, wondering what in the hell he was going to do about this new situation.

-

About 30 minutes later, Sam left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his shoulders, dressed in clothes appropriate for sleeping in. Considering the bunker had absolutely no windows, he had roughly no idea what time it was and didn't really feel like going back into his bedroom to fetch it. Instead, he walked through the bunker to the library and plonked down into a chair. It seemed that Dean still hadn't returned from slashing up some poor soul that probably didn't deserve it. Sam would've started researching how to cure Dean with another method but if he was unprepared to hide the books when Dean came back and he happened upon tons of books laid out about demons, it wouldn't be very subtle and Sam didn't want to know what would happen to him then.

His eyes glanced in the direction of the exit every now and then, thinking about whether he would have time to run out and warn Castiel before Dean came back. Curious, Sam stood from his seat and wandered up the stairway to the exit of the bunker. Feeling brave, he opened the door slowly, cringing at the loud creak it made. Could he do it? Was he brave enough to run? Was Dean serious about dragging him back? He didn't know the answers to any of the questions currently running through his mind. Perhaps it was a test by Dean, leaving the exit unlocked, and he actually wanted Sam to run so that he could hunt him down and kill him. Or, he could be sat in the Impala outside, waiting for Sam to appear at the doorway, a packed bag in his hand. It was overall a bad idea.

He sighed again and closed the door, returning to his seat. There was nothing better to do than wait for his brother's return. He wouldn't be able to focus on a TV show well enough and he certainly didn't feel up to eating anything. He pulled his legs up onto the seat and rested his chin and arms on them, jumping every now and then at the dripping water on his back, trickling from his washed hair. He had honestly no idea what to do about Dean's situation anymore. Maybe you should just give in, his mind unhelpfully supplied often.

No, Sam thought. I don't break that easily.

Soon enough, he heard the clanking on the bunker door open and he turned in his seat to see Dean, coated in a thick layer of blood, grinning madly.

"Heya Sammy! Didn't leave after all? Maybe you enjoy being here," Dean said upon seeing Sam.

"No I don't," Sam replied indignantly. "You've kidnapped me." Dean chuckled and stood beside Sam, running a bloody hand through his freshly cleaned hair. Sam unwillingly relaxed into the gentle touch.

"If I kidnapped you, would I have left the door unlocked? I know you opened it, little brother." Dean's hand tightened in his hair and he bunched it up in his fist. "You are here because you want to be - because you _like_ it. It's bad enough that you're lying to me, but you're also lying to yourself."

Sam groaned a little at the pain in his scalp, shuffling in his seat to release the sudden tightness in his pants. He looked up at Dean, filled with sudden bravery. "Fuck you," he spat at his brother, who merely laughed in response.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! i seem to be uploading these either once or twice a day. they're just so fun to write! i hope you enjoy; there's a lil bit of smut in this one. ;) if you have any further suggestions or comments on where to go next, they would be very appreciated! thanks.

A loud crack resounded through the bunker, echoing off the walls. Sam's head snapped to the side and he slowly turned to look at Dean in fear, holding a hand to his burning cheek. Dean was looking at Sam's lap, noting the bulge with a chuckle.

"You'll get a lot worse than that if you keep talking back," Dean replied, tightening his grip on Sam's hair. Seeing the horrified look on Sam's face, he chuckled again, saying, "c'mon Sammy, lighten up a little!" He released Sam's hair and wiped the spit off of his face before squeezing Sam's shoulder with a death-grip before walking away, pulling the towel off Sam's shoulders and slinging it over his own. Hopefully, to shower and wash the blood off his skin, Sam thought, spotting the outline of the First Blade in his brother's jeans. Every time Dean walked away Sam seemed to relax, in awe of the power that his demonic older brother could hold over him. He would always hate himself for loving the feeling of being vulnerable and inferior to Dean. Although it was a new appearance - these horrible, ugly and illegal feelings - demon Dean already seemed to enjoy taking advantage of them. He must know that they allow him to own Sam in every way and wasn't afraid of using it to control Sam.

Sam knew that if it came down to it, he'd do anything for Dean - would even let himself be owned, especially considering he enjoyed it so much. Sam sighed and stood from his seat, looking for a good distraction to hopefully get rid of his arousal. Something needed to happen before he completely succumbed to Dean because he had a feeling that it would be very hard to come back from that.

-

A few hours later when Sam was lay in his bed, a good book in hand and his headphones plugged in, Dean came barging into the room, causing Sam to jump.

"Uh, yeah?" Sam sat up immediately, closing his book and removing his headphones. The slap mark on his cheek was red and prominent still and he saw Dean looking at it in satisfaction.

"C'mon Sammy, you're moving into my room. Can't have you leaving in the middle of the night." While talking, Dean casually picked up the book that Sam was reading and looked at the cover in distaste. He dropped the book on the floor before looking at Sam expectantly.

"I-I thought you didn't sleep, being a demon?" When Dean's face dropped upon hearing the words, Sam backtracked, remembering the threats and the sight of Dean covered in innocent blood. "I-I'm sorry, I'll be there in a sec." Dean grinned, sliding a hand into Sam's hair again. Sam knew his hair was soft and long, but this new fascination wasn't helping Sam in hiding his arousal in any way at all. Jess loved playing with his hair and since then, Sam loved the stimulation of pulling and stroking his hair. Dean, again, must've realised this and began using it to his advantage.

"Good boy," Dean said, chastising and teasing. Sam opened his mouth to retaliate but remembered being smacked for 'talking back earlier', and decided he didn't want to know what 'a lot worse' consisted of. In an effort to please Dean, he bowed his head slightly, giving Dean further access while trying to hide his growing arousal by pulling his legs up to his chin.

Sam heard Dean's quiet chuckle before his hand disappeared and he left the room, clearly expecting Sam to follow. Sam, already dressed for bed, stood and grabbed his phone from his bedside table, trying to hide his fear-pleasure mix of feelings. He was deep in this, he knew that much, especially considering that he wasn't even trying to find a cure anymore and was barely resisting Dean. In his defense, he didn't actually want to be slaughtered brutally by his own brother. He was given ample freedom and wasn't in too much pain, so he supposed he had that to be thankful for.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm his beating heart before turning and leaving the room, silently closing the door behind him. When he got to Dean's room, he saw his brother already undressed (although hopefully not completely naked, Sam thought) and in bed, looking expectantly for Sam to arrive.

"C'mon Sammy, I don't bite," Dean said, laughing at Sam's incredulous face. "Alright, maybe I do, but only if you deserve it." That said, he lifted the corner of the duvet, inviting Sam to lie down next to him. Sam took his time to place his phone on the side and tried to stall as much as possible. When he caught Dean's impatient face, he laughed internally, before slowly slipping onto the memory foam mattress. He lay silently and faced away from Dean. That, however, didn't work out for Dean as he grabbed Sam's side and flipped him in a display of strength that really had no business being hot and scary at the same time.

He was suddenly facing Dean, less than a foot apart and staring into each other's eyes. Sam's breath quickened - as it seemed to be doing a lot lately - and Dean grinned at him. Dean was, thankfully wearing boxers, but nothing else. Small mercies, Sam thought, before looking away.

"Sleep, Sammy. I'll be here when you wake up." Sam, however, didn't know if he'd be able to sleep knowing that Dean would be staring at his face all night. After flipping his over, Dean kept a possessive hand on Sam's side, seemingly burning the flesh underneath it, and Sam was suddenly all too aware of it.

"Are you..." he let the sentence trail off and upon seeing Dean's confused face, he said, "nevermind." Of course, he isn't going to sleep. He's probably going to stare at his property all night, Sam thought dejectedly. After a few minutes, Sam finally closed his eyes, trying to put his mind to rest. It wasn't easy, feeling Dean's green eyes burning holes in his head, but he finally managed to sleep, fitful as it was.

-

Upon waking, Sam opened his eyes to see demon-black eyeballs less than a few inches away and tried to jump backward. He went to reach for the gun under his pillow but feeling the hand wrapped around his waist, he remembered the events of yesterday and tried to relax. It didn't really work.

"D-Dean," he whispered, trying to put some distance between them. Dean, who had probably been awake all night (judging by the times that Sam woke up and saw his eyes still open, staring creepily at him), suddenly leaned forward and dug his face into the expanse of Sam's neck, obviously inhaling, and moaned slightly, licking the purple teeth marks on his neck. "Dean, _please_..."

"Please what, Sammy?" His voice was deep and lust-filled, causing Sam in inhale sharply as he whispered the words into his ear. Dean's hand, previously gripping his side, slid downwards and stopped on his hip.

Sam groaned and gripped Dean's arm, trying to stop him from going any further. "Dean, please stop.."

"You want me to stop? Are you sure?" Dean teasingly used his other hand to grip Sam's long hair and pulled it, smiling into the skin of Sam's neck at the gasp that slipped out of his pretty pink lips. He pried open Sam's fingers and let his hand slip under his pajama bottoms, rubbing his thumb over Sam's prominent hip bone, brushing gently over Sam's hard and leaking cock.

"Aah, D-Dean, please..." Sam arched his back at the gentle touch on his dick and gripped Dean's hand in his hair, his entire body shaking in desperation.

"You are _mine_, Sam. All mine," Dean growled into his ear, brushing his fingertips over the head of his brother's cock, smearing the precum around it.

"Yes," Sam gasped out, "I am yours to control, I am all yours..." Sam was screaming at himself in his head, telling himself to not succumb so easily, to not give in, but he was so desperate and needy. He needed it more than anything and just couldn't stop himself.

"You know it," Dean laughed quietly in his ear and gripped his cock in his hand, forming a tight fist around it. He moved his hand slowly over Sam's cock, enjoying his blatant desperation. "I want you to cum for me."

Sam moaned loudly at the words, stretching his neck, trying to get Dean to bite down again. Dean, knowing his brother, immediately latched on with his teeth, moving his hand wrapped around the red and leaking cock faster and faster.

"Cum for me, Sammy, cum for me." Sam tightly closed his eyes, allowing himself to let go and exploded all over Dean's hand.

Dean jerked his hand, milking Sam's cock until he whined from overstimulation. He pulled his hand out of his brother's pajama pants slowly, showing Sam his cum-covered hand. Sam opened his eyes finally and looked at the hand before looking at Dean in befuddlement. Dean moved his hand closer to Sam's lips, slipping them in between, pulling Sam's head closer with the hand still wrapped in his brother's hair.

"D-Dean?" Sam said, unsure of whether he should actually reach out and lick his own cum from his brother's fingers. Dean nodded minutely, pushing his fingers in further, placing them on Sam's tongue. Sam immediately formed a tight cavern with his lips, sucking and licking the cum off his fingers. It tasted... not how he'd thought, but not very nice either. He looked at Dean while he did it, loving the feeling of Dean's fingers dominating his mouth. It seemed that Dean did too if the look of pleasure and satisfaction all over his face was anything to go by.

Once his fingers were clean, Dean pulled them out of Sam's mouth before quickly covering his lips with his own, forcefully kissing him.

Sam pulled back after a few seconds, suddenly remembering that he made himself promise he wouldn't give in to Dean. He was supposed to be his own person. It didn't exactly last very long, though, Sam thought.

Dean finally untangled his hand from Sam's mousy brown hair and sat up before swinging his legs over the bed, standing and stretching. Sam wouldn't admit this to himself but he admired Dean's body when he wasn't looking, enjoying the pale expanse of sinewy muscles and freckles. If Dean wasn't currently a demon and the situation was entirely different - say, he hadn't just eaten his own cum and told Dean he owns him - he would've complimented Dean, maybe even reached and touched him. He didn't really want to his wrist broken, however, and instead sat up too.

"Get dressed. I wanna go out today." Dean left the room, not dressing, and walked in the direction of the kitchen. Sam nodded, remembering that Dean didn't really have eyes in the back of his head.

"Okay," he replied quietly, saddened by his weakness and lack of power when it comes to Dean. He berated himself for succumbing to Dean too easily.

Suddenly remembering the fact that Dean wanted to leave today, paired with the obvious ownership mark on his neck, Sam gulped. What would they be doing? Did he have to watch Dean kill someone?

He immediately felt regret, knowing people would stare at his neck and then look at Dean, probably in disgust or fear. He was suddenly terrified. Sighing, he stood from Dean's bed and left the room too, quickly entering his own and getting dressed. Maybe he could find something that would cover his neck slightly...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight homophobia in this chapter. :) please enjoy!

Sam left his bedroom wearing his usual jeans, a t-shirt, flannel and lastly, his biggest coat. Considering it was autumn outside, he might be able to get away with wearing it in Dean's presence if he used the coldness as an excuse. Perhaps it was futile, but it was worth the effort if it meant that no one could see the brand on his neck. Speaking of, Sam didn't think it was ever going to heal if Dean kept biting it, but he liked it too much to ask him to stop. He just didn't enjoy everyone knowing that he, as a man taller than 6ft, was owned by his older, smaller demon brother. No one knew he was his brother, per se, but it didn't change the fact that he was obviously someone's property. He didn't know anyone else that walked around with teeth marks in their neck.

He rolled his eyes at his brother's kinks and walked into the kitchen to see Dean stood at the counter wearing just his boxers, the smell of bacon filtering through the air. Sam silently sat at the bench and waited until Dean noticed him, not wanting to interrupt one of his brother's few hobbies of cooking. He stared off into the distance instead of staring at his brother's astounding body, thinking further on the events of the past day or two. To anyone else, it would be an absolute nightmare, but Sam was pleased to say that he enjoyed every aspect. Well, maybe not being slapped or forced around so much, but otherwise... Sam hated that he loved it, actually. It was wrong, disgusting, evil and ridiculous, but he wanted more and more and more.

Dean eventually turned around and placed his plate down, with bacon, eggs, and toast on it. Sam kept his head bowed and muttered a quick thanks to him. He felt Dean press a gentle kiss to his forehead and Sam felt like he had whiplash at the changes of mood. One moment, Dean was gentle and loving but the next he seemed to want Sam to be demure, small and property once again. Sam sighed internally and began eating his food, ignoring Dean sat across from him, still staring at him. Instead of thinking too hard, he decided to contemplate the day ahead; where they would be going, what they were doing and such. Dean hasn't really dropped any hints considering he wasn't even dressed. Speaking of, every time Sam looked at his brother all he could see what his god-like body, remembering the events of only earlier that morning.

"Where are we going?" Sam finally scraped together enough courage to ask the question but it was probably still a futile effort. Dean just winked in response and stood up, taking Sam's finished plate to the sink before leaving the kitchen. Sam hoped he was getting dressed; he was continually being distracted and it wasn't helping his efforts to not be so submissive. He guessed that was Dean's aim or not getting dressed. When he left, Sam breathed deeply and stood up, glad that Dean hadn't said anything about the coat.

He decided to wait in the fondly nicknamed 'War Room' for Dean, which basically consisted of the monitor with the world map on it and a few chairs. He sat himself down in one and waited.

-

15 minutes later, give or take, Dean returned with clothes on - thank God - and a bag in his hand.

"Come on, Sammy, I wanna go into town for a bit," he said, with a smirk on his face. Sam didn't like the sight of the cheeky grin on his face and sighed internally again.

"Okay," he replied and followed his brother up the stairs and out of the bunker, all the way eyeing the bag slung over his brother's arm.

Dean went to the Impala and opened the passenger door for Sam, closing it when Sam folded his body to fit in the car.

He slung the bag in the backseat and Sam's eyes followed it before watching Dean sit down in the driver seat. There was, strangely enough, no blood in the car, meaning that Dean hadn't gone far to kill someone yesterday. The thought sickened Sam slightly and he turned away to look out of his window at the scenery slowly pass by, hearing the Impala engine roar to life. Dean pulled out of the parking space and joined the nearby road. That is when Sam zoned out, suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of sadness. Is this what his life has come to?

-

Half an hour later and they are sat in a diner booth with Sam enjoying a small coffee and Dean nursing a whiskey. Clearly, nothing had changed, Sam thought while rolling his eyes; Dean even as a demon splurged in daytime drinking. At least it meant he wouldn't be drunk. The bag remained in the backseat of the Impala while they sat in the diner but Sam could see Dean's eyes flicked towards it every now and then. What it was, however, Sam had no idea.

After a few minutes, Sam felt the warmth of the diner getting to him and slipped his coat off, completely forgetting the mark on his neck. When he looked up, he saw Dean's lips upturned slightly and looked around the diner. Nothing seemed amiss however and considering it was a common occurrence these days, he ignored it, continuing to sip his coffee. He pushed his confusion about the whole day to the back of his mind and tried to imagine it was his Dean sat across from him, not a demon that wanted him to be property.

That was hard to do, however, when he looked to the counter and saw a pretty young girl looking his way and winked at him. She went out of her way to make him look, make him admire. Sam watched her for a few minutes, a blush rising on his cheeks. He didn't see Dean, however, looking enraged by his staring. The instant that he saw Dean turn around and look at the girl, he bowed his head and looked into the swirling black coffee, coughing slightly. Dean turned back around to face him and bore his eyes into Sam's skull. Sam gulped and whispered, "I wasn't looking, I promise."

Dean didn't stop glaring so Sam chose to not look up, watching him from the corner of his eye instead.

Sam suddenly felt Dean wrap his legs around his own underneath the table. He tensed slightly but tried to relax when nothing else happened and allowed Dean to intertwine their legs. When he looked back to the counter, the girl was gone. He sighed. If anything, he expected Dean to be interested in the girl too, but it seemed his brother only had eyes for him now.

It was all quiet for a few, blissful minutes, but that changed when from across the diner, they both heard a shout.

"Hey, faggots!" Sam swallowed his coffee, choking on it slightly, hoping to any God that existed that he wasn't talking to them. Could he see their legs?

Unfortunately, Hope wasn't his friend today - or any point in his life, really - and a gruff-looking man approached them, stopping beside their table. He looked at Dean in shock and fear, but Dean wasn't looking at him. Instead, he was smiling at the man.

Sam gulped, eyes flicking between the two men. "Yes?" Dean drawled, leaning back in the booth.

The man grabbed Sam's hair and yanked his hair sideways, pointing to his neck. Sam yelped and grabbed the table with both hands, wondering what was going on.

"What the fuck is that? Is he your bitch?" The man laughed, not noticing Dean's face morphing from mocking to angry in less than a second.

"What is it to you?" Dean said, neutral in tone. Sam looked to Dean in fear. Dean was going to kill this man. Sam began panting, trying to fight back against the man grappling his hair. In the distance, he could see the other men from the booth that this stranger came from were laughing at him, looking helpless and lost in the man's grip.

"You fucking faggots, you disgusting bastards," the man laughed again, roughly letting go of Sam's head, shaking it in the process. He walked away, jesting with the men in his booth. They were pointing in Sam and Dean's direction.

Underneath the table, Dean's legs tightened around his. "Dean," Sam said imploringly, "it isn't worth it."

Dean said, "finish your drink," before not saying anything more. Sam's hands were shaking. He nodded slowly and gulped the rest of his drink, reveling in the warmth it left behind in his stomach. A small comfort, he thought, but still there.

Dean kept his eyes on the booth after that. Sam tried to leave at one point, trying to deny the inevitable, and Dean just pushed him back into his seat. At one point, someone came to collect Sam's cup and Dean threw a note onto the table and still didn't say anything. Sam smiled at the waiter, muttered a quiet thanks, and turned to watch Dean. Eventually, the men in the booth stood to leave. They were still laughing and joking about 'fags' and 'those gays'. Sam was disgusted but more inclined to ignore it.

When they left, Dean flashed a quick smirk at Sam and whispered, 'stay here, you don't wanna see this' before getting up and leaving. Sam tried to call after him, watching as he left the diner after the men, followed them behind the diner into the backings and all the while, Dean was gradually pulling the First Blade out of his pocket.

Sam groaned, stood up and followed them as soon as they disappeared around the corner. He knew he was disobeying Dean but he didn't really want Dean to get lost in the killing and get arrested.

"Fuck," Sam muttered and jogged faster upon hearing a distinct scream. This wasn't good.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one has got a bit of violence in it, but isn't *too* graphic, i don't think, but that may just be me. please enjoy!!

When Sam turned the corner of the diner, he immediately stepped back and paled at the sight in front of him. Now, as a hunter from a very early age and having his soul in Hell for around 180 years, he was quite... desensitized, to certain things, but seeing multiple men dead already and other's in pieces - quite literally in multitudes of pieces with arms and legs and chunks of fleshy skin dotted around - brutally slaughtered by his brother's hand turned his stomach quite a bit. He put a hand to his mouth and gasped, stepping away until his back collided with a wall, trying to avoid the numerous blood splatters of arterial blood surrounding every surface. He spotted Dean a few metres away on the opposite wall holding the First Blade in one hand and the man's throat he had held against the wall in his other.

The Blade was pushing his throat and Dean, coated in thick layers of blood with the odd noticeable chunk of flesh on his body, was quietly whispering into the man's ear. Sam strained to listen and what he heard made him feel safe and yet in danger, happy and yet scared, at the same time.

"Never lay a hand on what's mine ever again," Dean growled, "Sammy is mine, and I protect him. He is mine. _Mine_!"

While speaking, Dean choked the man and slowly stepped back. He raised the Blade and in one swift movement he cut off both of the man's hands. When Dean moved away from the screaming man holding his stumps up to his face, eyes wide at the blood spurting from them, Sam could finally see who it was. The stranger that had approached them and grabbed Sam by his hair.

Sam felt disgusted when he thought that the man got what he deserved for being a bigot and a dick, and even felt slightly pleased but the feeling quickly disappeared when the man ran away from Dean, still screaming. He felt guilty for allowing Dean to do that, but they needed to leave before the cops arrived considering it was broad daylight and not even noon yet. They watched the man run down the alley and turn the corner.

When he'd disappeared from sight, Dean turned to face Sam, quickly approaching him. Sam gulped and noted the blood covering his entire brother and pushed himself firmer into the wall behind him, determined to ignore the sharp brick digging into his spine.

"Heya Sammy," Dean said and leaned into Sam's space. One of his dirty hands gripped Sam's waist while the other went to Sam's lips. He whined and pushed them together as hard as he could, trying to prevent Dean's bloody fingers from entering his mouth. "Ah ah," Dean said with a light tone before forcing his fingers into Sam's mouth, pressing down onto his tongue and touching all of his teeth.

Sam almost gagged at the metallic taste intruding his tastebuds but swallowed it down and whimpered. Dean grinned and pushed his fingertips over into every one of Sam's teeth and even over his upper and lower gums. Sam's mouth felt thoroughly violated.

Dean finally pulled his fingers from Sam's mouth but left them on his lips. They were remarkably cleaner and coated in spit. He rubbed them over Sam's lips, painting them a cherry red. He patted Sam's cheek and walked away, calling to Sam over his shoulder.

"C'mon Sam, we need to leave before the cops get here." He put the Blade back into its usual place before pulling open the Impala driver door. Somehow, no one noticed his brother painted red, nor the screams that obviously came from the back alley. Not wanting to jinx it or think too much into it, he got into the car too, remembering the bag in the back seat.

The stench in the car was almost unbearable, even with the windows rolled down all the way. He could even still taste the blood in his mouth, which wasn't surprising since it was coated along every millimetre of his mouth. It was nauseating and Sam was sure that he would throw up before the day was over. Suddenly remembering how Dean hadn't actually killed the last man, Sam decided to speak up.

"De, why didn't you kill that last man?" If Dean noticed the shortened version of his name, he didn't say anything about it, probably knowing that Sam would feel somewhat vulnerable or safe after what he said to the man. Sam was glad he didn't say anything; he hadn't meant to call Dean by his affectionate childhood nickname and it had slipped out, but he supposed the situation was right.

"Death would be too merciful for him," Dean said, no humor in his voice. In fact, Sam can't quite remember the last time he saw Dean so serious. "He deserved to feel real pain for touching you," he continued, "and the best revenge was to take his hands. He touched what belongs to me." He enunciated heavily on the last word and Sam had never felt so helpless and unsure.

Sam nodded at the response, wondering if this is what his life would be like from now on. Would he ever see Cass or Jody ever again? Or even Charlie? What would Dean do if they touched him? It didn't bear thinking about. He was pulled from his thoughts by Dean speaking again.

"C'mere," he said, lifting his right arm, keeping his left on the wheel and his eyes on the road. What exactly did he want Sam to do?

Sam hesitated and Dean looked at him, allowing his eyes to switch to black. Sam gulped and immediately moved closer to his brother, tucking himself under the arm resting on the back of the seat. The smell grew more intense when he got closer but after seeing what Dean could do to some people that just looked or spoke to them funnily, he thought it wasn't worth commenting on and became resigned to his fate. He leaned his body against Dean's.

Dean hummed happily before running his hand through Sam's hair, causing him to become lax and pliant in Dean's presence. He moaned quietly when Dean began massaging his scalp, tugging his hair gently. Sam rested his head on Dean's shoulder, sighing softly. This is the most relaxed he'd felt since seeing that empty chair in the dungeon. He pulled his legs up to his chin again, allowing himself to feel small and childlike. Dean was more affectionate as a demon than he'd ever been as a human and Sam wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Sam soon drifted into a deep sleep since his dreams were interrupted and tense last night. Sam wasn't going to begrudge a nap every now and then.

-

Upon waking up, Sam discovered himself to be strapped to a table with his hands, feet, and head wrapped in thick rope. Thankfully, he wasn't naked. Sam suddenly felt sick and terrified and tried to turn his head to see his surroundings, struggling with the rope. Judging from the smell and the high beams on the ceiling, he was in a barn of some description. Bad things always happen in barns, Sam thought. Why did it have to be a fucking barn? Of all places on Earth, a barn?

He strained on the ropes wrapped around his limbs, hearing them gently creak and tighten. Fuck, Sam thought, twisting and yanking on the rope until he became exhausted. He sighed and stopped wasting his energy and instead tried to listen out for anything distinct.

Absolute nothingness. Radio silence. As empty as the void. Sam had many phrases and words to summarise what he could hear but 'fuck all' would probably be the most accurate in this situation. Was this Dean's doing? Or did he get kidnapped? The last thing he remembered was Dean stopping for gas, pulling over at the station and whispering to Sam to stay asleep and Sam nodded and lay down further in the seat.

And suddenly, he was in a barn, terrified out of his mind and his muscles aching slightly. I need to get outta here, Sam thought, wondering who could possibly do this when he heard a sound at last.

The barn door slid open and light spilled onto the floor, dusting over Sam's body. In the light, Sam could make out a tall silhouette, distinctly male, and thought it was Dean. That, however, was before the mysterious creature spoke.

"Hello Sam," they said. Sam gulped. He didn't have time to speak before a long, thin whip came cracking down on his stomach. He cried out in pain and anguish, tightly closing his eyes and tensing his body. The ropes still didn't move.

The whip cracked in the air again before wrapping around Sam's tender flesh. His thin t-shirt didn't do anything to protect him and he started sobbing in pain. This felt too much like the cage, and memories came crashing down upon Sam's mind. This is torture, Sam thought, before crying out again when he was continually whipped.

The only thing running through his mind was his brother, who would hopefully come for him. Dean, Dean, Dean, he chanted in his head, before screaming in agony. Dean, I need you, he thought, before passing out from the pain. Who was that person, and why were they doing this?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is long, violent and smutty. will dean finally accept to be cured? or will sam have to find a way to do it himself?

From what Sam could surmise from the tiny amounts of light filtering through the splintered wooden panels of the barn, it had been about 3 days since he was kidnapped from his Dean, and Sam was beginning to grow desperate. Why hadn't Dean saved him yet? It didn't usually take human Dean this long to find him and technically demon Dean should be better.

In the past 3 days, Sam had been whipped, burnt, stabbed, punched, cut, picked at, scratched, bled more than strictly good and cried more times than he can count. And yes, he might've survived in the cage with Lucifer and Michael, but he'd thrown himself in there believing that he deserved what he'd get and thought he'd let Dean down continually in his life. He didn't really have a lot to live for back then. Now, though, Dean was probably out there wreaking havoc on innocents and guilty alike. That, or he didn't care at all. Sam wasn't sure which was worse.

In the present moment, Sam was strapped to a beam. Whenever the man arrived, he tied a bandana around his eyes so he couldn't see but at this moment, his eyes were able to see. His chest was to the beam and his hands were tied around it as if he was hugging the beam. It was drastically uncomfortable and meant that he couldn't move at all but left him back open. He'd been whipped so much that the blood ran in rivulets down his body and formed muddy, dusty puddles on the floor. His t-shirt was in ribbons, hanging off his body. With no food and minimal water - it had rained for one day and Sam managed to scoop a puddle off the floor when his hands were free - he was running a little low on energy. He was thinner and much dirtier than when he'd arrived. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was greasy and limp, ran through with sweat and blood. No part of his body was left untouched by torture; his arms and legs were cut open, sometimes to the fat underneath his pale skin. His back and chest were whipped within an inch of their life, leaving red welts and raised, bleeding skin everywhere. He had been punched in the face repeatedly and if he could feel his mouth in the first place, he'd be able to tell whether or not he had any teeth left in his skull at all.

The man always came back at the same time, twice a day, every day; just before dawn and just before dusk. It never changed, never slowed and never stopped. He was relentless and brutal and Sam never thought he'd seen something quite so evil. The routine was so familiar to Sam that he was preparing himself for the pain. It was agony, new cuts reopening old ones, but in some way, he'd accepted the pain as punishment for failing Dean so badly. He wasn't able to cure him and this was his repentance. He still didn't know who the man was as he spoke rarely and briefly, never more than 3 words. Sam was racking his brain trying to think of who it might be but in the end, he'd come to the conclusion that Crowley or Metatron must've sent someone to take him and break him. Unfortunately for them - and fortunately for himself - Sam didn't break easily. One of his strong points, he thought.

He'd tried speaking to the man on numerous occasions, asking for food or what he wanted, but it was always the same response: "I am doing God's work." After the seventh or so time, Sam rolled his eyes in response, saying, "I'll have the whip today, please."

The man hadn't laughed or said anything else. He merely picked up a hammer and started smashing his ribs. They were all broken by the end of the half an hour slot. Sam laughed when he left, stopping when he felt his chest tighten dramatically. There goes that plan of humoring his way out, as futile as it was.

Today, however, after the man left his morning slot and tied Sam to the beam, something changed. At about noon, someone else came into the barn, someone that wasn't his usual executioner.

"Who is it?" Sam yelled, trying to twist in his awkward tree-hugger position.

The man approached Sam and cut the ropes, catching him when he fell from the beam. The hands were calming and soft. When he finally opened his eyes, he blinked at the face of his brother above him and cried out in happiness, love, and desperation. His clothes were as good as gone but considering their recent relationship status, Sam didn't bother hiding from Dean. He smiled at Dean from where he lay in his arms.

"Thank you," Sam whispered, curling into Dean's comfort. Dean gripped Sam gently, pulling him into his chest and whispered quietly in his ear,

"He's dead, Sammy, I killed him and he's dead. Never gonna hurt you again, I promise, he's in pieces across his kitchen, across his garden. He's dead, and never coming back, you'll be okay, Gonna get you back to the bunker, gonna heal you up and I'm gonna save you. It's okay Sam, it's okay, it's okay baby boy, it's okay."

By the end, Sammy was sobbing into Dean's jacket, covered in more blood than Dean was. Everything hurt and it was horrible but he was okay now. He was okay, he was gonna be fine.

-

Not long after that, Sam was sat in the passenger seat of the Impala and Dean was stood next to it, the door open, trying to clean the blood off of Sam's entire body. It stings so much but Sam grits his teeth, trying to not think of who and what caused this pain in the first place. No more words were exchanged in the barn; Dean simply picked Sam up, bridal style, and carried him the half-mile to the Impala and placed him softly in his seat.

He tore the remains of Sam's clothes and tried his best to wash him, stitching up the necessary areas and feeding Sam some aspirin, watching as he washed it down with a bottle of whiskey. When he was done, Dean went around and sat in the driver seat, sighing.

"He was a nobody, Sam. He hurt you, ruined you. I took pleasure in murdering him. He hurt you. He was just some fucking human that wanted to hurt someone. He hurt you, Sammy, and he got exactly what he deserved. I ripped the skin off his face and made him eat it. I fed parts of him to his fucking dogs, Sam, because he hurt you. And if he hurt you then he hurt me, too." Here, Dean trailed off, chuckling humourlessly throughout his rant.

Sam didn't speak. It was silent for a few minutes before Sam turned and pulled Dean towards him, kissing him harshly on the lips. It was Dean who broke the kiss, grabbing the sides of Sam's face. They stared at each other in the eyes for a second, honey brown meeting demon black, before Dean slowly brought their faces together again, just barely brushing his lips against Sam's.

Sam whined, pushing harder, opening his mouth, willing and pliant, wanting Dean and needing him. Dean grinned before slipping his hot tongue into Sam's mouth, parting his lips. Sam's tongue hesitantly touched his brother's and the feelings of want immediately crashed down upon him. He'd been wanting this for years and years and fucking years, and finally, it was here. Not the way he'd expect, not the circumstances he wanted, but for now, it was good enough. He pulled himself impossibly close to Dean, swinging one leg over both of his thighs, sitting in his lap. He wrapped both of his hands around Dean's head, keening softly as Dean wrapped one hand in his hair, pulling, while the other went to his bare hip, gripping it tightly. Sam ground his hips downwards, wanting Dean to feel how much he wanted this.

"De," he whispered, breaking their lips for just a moment, panting through the pain in his chest due to his fucked ribs.

"I know," Dean said, before pulling down Sam's boxers and gripping his cock. Sam moaned and bucked into the fist formed around his red and leaking member. He went to unbutton Dean's pants but Dean grabbed his hand before he could, holding his hand tightly against his own side, focusing on Sam.

He pulled and twisted his wrist, spreading the precum over Sam's dick, grinning at the high-pitched whines he could hear from Sam. He rubbed his thumb over the head, thumbing his slit, watching Sam fall apart under his hands.

"Cum, Sammy, cum," Dean said forcefully, jerking Sam faster and faster.

Sam nodded, hips bucking wildly, his hands tugging Dean's hair. He gasped when he orgasmed, looking down at his cum coating his brother's hand. He captured Dean in a kiss during his orgasm, moaning into his mouth. Dean bit Sam's lip gently and licked his way through Sam's hot cavern.

"I wanna try something," Dean whispered into Sam's ear, before lifting Sam easily with demon strength and removed his brother's boxers entirely.

Sam knew he couldn't say no, but he didn't actually want to. He had a relatively good idea as to what Dean wanted to do and spread his legs over his brother's thighs wider as if saying, 'please fuck me.'

Dean laughed, running his hands gently down Sam's raised and scarred back, bleeding and scabby in some places. He reached Sam's ass, fondling the soft ample flesh he felt there. Sam huffed a laugh, arching his back, running his hands through Dean's impeccable hair.

Dean trailed his fingers down Sam's ass, reaching behind to pull and roll Sam's testicles in his hand. Sam moaned at the feeling, overstimulation making him harden for a second time.

A sudden click made Sam open his eyes, searching for the noise. When he felt a cool liquid dripping down across his hole he knew that Dean had opened some lube. A finger pressed against his tight hole and Sam groaned.

"I-I've never done this before, De," Sam said, his nerves showing in his shakey but aroused voice. Dean hummed and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

"It's okay Sammy, I promise I won't hurt you, just relax a little bit," Dean replied with and Sam actually believed him, relaxing his entire body in anticipation.

The finger slipped into him and Sam gasped, immediately tensing but relaxed when he felt intense pleasure shoot through him. Dean, obviously the master of sex, didn't take long to find his prostate, massaging the bundle of nerves until he was fully hard and putty in Dean's lap. Another finger slipped in beside the first and Sam sharply inhaled, pushing down onto Dean's hand.

Finally, while preparing him, Dean unzipped his pants and pulled his boxers down and began jerking his cock, adding lube. Sam looked between them at their hard cocks bumping against each other. He keened again, whispering to Dean, "I want you inside me, please, Dean, please..."

Dean nodded and lifted Sam up. It'd be a tight squeeze for them both but they were desperate, needing each other and needing something more.

Dean placed his cock head at Sam's entrance before dropping Sam slowly, both of them moaning loudly at the tight and beautiful fit. Finally, Dean bottomed out and they both sat for a moment, panting.

Dean leaned back slightly to admire Sam's body, looking over his numerous injuries.

"You look beautiful like this, baby boy," Dean whispered, smirking.

Sam flushed bright red, looking down in embarrassment at the name Dean used. He moved to wrap his arms around himself but before he could get that far, Dean grabbed his hands, kissing one of his knuckles and pulled Sam against his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

"You are entirely mine for the taking," Dean said, reverently, "you are all mine and you love it just as much as I do. You love being dependant, you love being controlled and you love being my property, mine. Mine." On the last word, he picked Sam up and dropped him down his dick again, beginning to lick and suck at Sam's neck, noting that even throughout all of the events of the last few days, his brand was still there, proud and visible. He nibbled the same area before biting down at the same time he harshly thrust upwards, tightening his arms on Sam.

Sam whined and moaned and groaned as loud as he could, feeling so full and so loved, feeling so safe and protected. He pushed himself downwards, taking all of Dean's dick, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and pushing his face into the pale area behind his ear. He suckled gently at the skin, allowing Dean to grip his body and thrust upwards, gaining speed and intensity. He loved every minute of it.

Dean thrust and thrust, never slowing down. Sam was so tight and warm, so beautiful and submissive. When they peaked, Sam pushed their foreheads together, looking deep into Dean's eyes, watching his eyes flip between green and black, green and black.

Sam felt Dean speed up, feeling his own testicles draw up.

"I'm gonna cum," Sam said, wanting to reach down and touch his dick but loving the feeling of wanting to cum without being touched.

Dean nodded, saying, "Gonna cum inside you, mark you up on the inside, gonna claim you as mine."

They kept eye contact for a few seconds before crying out at the same time, cumming and letting go. Sam cummed all over his own stomach and partly on Dean's t-shirt while feeling Dean's warmth spread inside.

Once the afterglow calmed down and they managed to stop panting, they sat quietly and Sam leaned in to kiss Dean again. This time, it was soft and filled with love, filled with passion and heat. Dean finally broke it and pulled out of Sam, reaching for a piece of cloth in the back seat.

He wiped them both down before pulling Sam's boxers back up, tucking himself back into his own. Sam immediately curled up into his side, careful to not injure himself any more than the bout of sex had. He was bleeding in a few places after the scabs were pulled open but Sam didn't mind. That was possibly the best thing he had ever done and he didn't regret it at all.

Dean smiled down at Sammy falling asleep under his arm and pressed another gentle kiss on the top of his head. He chucked the cloth behind them before turning the key in the ignition, pulling out of the field in the middle of literally fucking nowhere, glad to be driving them both back to the bunker.

"Let's go home, Sammy," Dean said, glad that he had Sammy back at his side. It had been a torturous 3 days and Dean didn't think he'd ever forget the feeling when he got back to the car after paying for the gas to see that Sam was nowhere to be seen. At first, the thought Sam had run, but when he saw the needle in the seat, he knew he'd been drugged and kidnapped. After he learned that, nothing could calm him down. He was a hurricane wrapped in a hand grenade, waiting for the pin to be pulled and watch himself explode. Thankfully, he'd had a breakthrough in the car he saw leaving on the CCTV of the Gas n Sip and found his boy before anything more could happen.

He took his time driving back to the bunker, content to stay right where he was.

-

When they finally got back to the bunker, Dean patched Sam up best he could and stocked him up on pain meds and plenty of food before taking him to his bedroom. He lay with him in bed, cuddling him tightly to his chest, not wanting to ever let go. He might just go insane if it were to ever happen again. He pulled Sam impossibly closer, careful to not injure his ribs. Things needed to go back to normal. Maybe he would let Sam cure him after all. If the events of today were anything to go by, there may actually be some humanity left in him. He contemplated it the whole night, listening to Sam's wheezing breaths, scared that any one might be his last.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long!!! had a lot of problems, balancing 2 different prides, starting college, focusing on other writing projects and doing the house up has caused this fanfic to fall in priority, but nevertheless, here is another chapter! i actually wrote it a while ago but kept forgetting to post it. ah well! here we go... :)

Later in the morning, Sam finally rolled out of bed, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. He suddenly groaned, falling back in the bed and holding his ribs in pain. The cuts and bruises covering his body were throbbing and in dire need of a clean but Sam was simply too relieved to be back home at this point. The whip marks didn't feel as swollen but the areas where the leather cut in was weeping, probably infected and hurt whenever he moved. The t-shirt was stuck in places where the blood became tacky and when he ripped it off, they started bleeding again. He sighed and stripped, finally agreeing to a shower, knowing that he'd feel better if he did shower. He always felt cleaner and better. But I can never be rid of this burden, Sam thought, I will always somehow be unclean.

He stood again and walked out, stripping his clothes as he went. As he undressed, he recalled the events in the Impala the day before and blushed deeply, quickening his pace into the showers.

He climbed in and turned the shower to the hottest setting, standing under the flow - he had to agree with Dean; the pressure was, admittedly, very good. The water running into the bath below was a dirty mix of red, black and grey. The whip marks on his back burned and stung under the flow but it was a relief to finally feel something good on his body and he already felt cleaner. He groaned, putting his head under and running his hands through his grimy hair, grimacing when some came away. It hadn't been touched or washed in a good while and it was showing. It had been tugged and yanked in the barn and the knots were starting to show.

Eventually, when the crusty blood and sweat were gone and the water was running somewhat cleaner, he went to grab his own shampoo and body wash but instead went for Dean's instead. Perhaps some comforting smells would help him stay in the present. He was careful to not rub too much soap into the cuts, and not press too hard on the bruises, but finally, he left the shower, probably looking as good as he felt.

He snatched a towel from the rack and wrapped himself in it, entering his own room and putting on some comfortable clothes; an old hoodie that was still quite large on him and a pair of sweatpants. He vigorously rubbed the towel on his head, drying as much as he could before picking up his brush, taking his time to work out the knots and tangles. It didn't take very long but it still made his arms ache from the tugging and holding them up. He hadn't really used many muscles in a while, so they burned with the effort of using them.

Once done, he left the room in search of Dean, finding him in the kitchen, as per the usual. He had a few books out but closed them when Sam walked in.

"Heya Sammy! How're you feeling?" Sam blinked in confusion before slowly answering him.

"Fine, thanks... what are you reading?" He spoke gently, his throat raw and unused in a fair few days.

Dean shrugged innocently and put the books in a pile, cover down, before standing up and fetching a plate from the fridge. He put in down and gestured Sam to sit down. "Just reading up on some stuff," he finally said, before looking Sam up and down. "You still in pain?"

Sam nodded, putting the books behind him and sitting down to eat the sandwiches and meat on the plate. A pot of pills appeared next to his plate and he read the label; painkillers. He immediately tossed a few back, taking more than the recommended amount, knowing a normal dosage wouldn't do a lot for him.

When he finished eating, he looked up at Dean. "A-are you still a demon?" He hesitated to ask because a few days ago, he knew he would've been hit or slapped, but recently, Dean seemed more human than a demon.

Dean looked down before nodding, looking somewhat sad and disappointed.

Sam frowned, hugely confused, but didn't really want to ask more lest he suddenly turns again.

He simply nodded too before standing and putting his plate in the sink. He turned around to see that Dean seemingly wanted to say something but was nervous about it.

"Sam, uh, I don't really know how to say this, but... I want to be human again." Upon seeing Sam's face drop, he hurried to continue talking. "The last few days, I have let some ... feelings ... show, as I am sure you've noticed. Well, I think they have made me more human anyway, but I am still a demon. But, I am human enough to know that I want to be cured, if you know what I mean. And I want you to cure me."

Throughout talking, Dean looked unsure. Sam, however, was filled with happiness by the end.

"A-are you sure? You actually want me to cure you?"

Dean rolled his eyes but nodded in the end. "Yes, Sammy, I want you to cure me. But," he said, holding a hand up, "there is one condition to it."

Sam enthusiastically nodded. "Of course, Dean, anything."

Here, Dean looked guilty, hesitating before he spoke again. "I want your blood to cure me."

There were a few beats of silence before Sam guffawed and laughed. He immediately stopped upon seeing Dean's serious face.

"Wait, you really meant that? Are you shitting me?" At Sam's incredulous look, Dean stood up and sighed.

"Yes, Sam, that was a hilarious joke," he sarcastically said before turning to leave.

"Wait!" Sam said, grabbing Dean's arm but dropping it at the look he received. "P-please, talk to me. Why my blood?"

Dean rolled his eyes again and sat back down. "I'm not answering that question, Sammy."

"Well, what's wrong with someone else's blood?"

Dean exhaled slowly before turning to look at Sam. "Yours feels better, tastes better. And I'm not letting you leave to get more, so we'll have to make do. The other blood will probably be disgusting by now."

In the end, Sam looked to be contemplating what Dean said, before slowly nodding in response. A question sprung to his mind, though; "Won't my blood be tainted by demon blood, though?"

Here is where Dean reached for the books, pulling a specific one from the stack. "This book from the library says that you haven't had any demon blood in a long while. And, the hundreds of grace healings should've decreased the amount of demon blood in you. Combine these with the fact that you are a pure soul definitely going to Heaven, I'd say you're safe. If it doesn't work, then... we'll have to find something else."

Sam looked at Dean in surprise. "You seem to have planned this quite thoroughly."

Dean looked around the room before meeting Sam's eyes. "Been thinking about this since I got you back," he muttered. "If I wasn't a demon, you wouldn't have been scared of me. If I was of sound human mind, I'd have found you quicker. I can't pretend to be the FBI when I wanna kill the sheriff because he told me it was your fault for falling asleep. I don't regret what I did as a demon, Sammy, but I know that I can't be ... with you in the way that I want to while being a demon." He animatedly gestured with his hands while speaking, sounding so sure of himself that Sam truly believed he felt this way.

"Alright then, how do we go about it?"

Dean reached under the table, grabbing something and dropping them onto the table.

"You want me to... handcuff you for it?"

"Sam, we don't know how this is gonna go. I might try and escape again. This time, we need demon and human handcuffs and some rope. You can't leave me any way to move, Sam." Dean had never looked so sincere and sure of himself, but also desperate.

He really wants this, Sam said, before standing up and grabbing the handcuffs. "We'll have to wait until I feel a bit better, though," Sam said, feeling better about the whole thing. Sure, being told what to do was good, but it wasn't really a good mindset to be in constantly. Now at least, he felt he could talk comfortably without being scared and aroused by what Dean would do. He always knew he had a submissive mindset and that it stemmed from Dean, but approaching it while Dean was a demon wasn't a good idea. It had to be done safely and consensually. Being submissive constantly would probably cause him to become quite closed off and hidden inside his mind.

No, Sam thought assuredly, I am going to cure Dean first. He left the room and walked into the library, taking the book and handcuffs with him. He didn't turn around, nor leave Dean with any room to argue. It was time to take some control again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey there!! turns out my mind wants to make this into a full novel. i will not apologize for amazing ideas. anyway, here u go. :)

A sudden thudding on the bunker door shocked Sam out of the book he was reading. It was the one that Dean was reading earlier, about healing him through drinking blood and so far, it didn't seem to mention whether or not drinking his blood, once thickened and unclean with demon blood.

Nevermind that for a minute, Sam thought. More importantly, who was at the door?

He stood from his chair in the library and wandered over to the stairs, high alert and ready for whatever was on the other side of the door.

Before he got there, however, he was intercepted by Dean, who stopped him with a forceful hand on his shoulder and a quick death glare. While Dean was seemingly more himself lately, Sam didn't want to press him too much, lest he shifts into a more demonic version of himself. He didn't want to push him too far and stepped away, raising his hands in a placating way. Dean nodded and turned, taking the stairs slowly, clearly not realizing when his eyes flickered black for a split second before returning to his brilliant green.

Sam swallowed, even slightly nervous for whoever was on the other side of the door. He hadn't actually left the bunker in more than 4 days (well, other than his quick brush with death in someone's barn, but Sam was trying to bleach that whole experience from his mind - apart from the part with Sam and Dean in the Impala, after he was rescued) and therefore literally had no communication with anyone other than Dean, his terrifying frequently black-eyed brother.

The door creaked open, groaning screeching, but no other sounds could be heard. Suddenly, Dean shouted his name and Sam ran up the stairs, taking 3 at a time.

He stopped, shocked at the sight before him.

"C-Cass?"

Dean was holding Cass up, who seemed bloodied and broken beyond belief. All three were silent, staring at each other in confusion, before Cass moaned slightly, his eyes slipping closed, and suddenly everything kicked into action. Sam hoisted Cass's other arm over his shoulders and they slowly dragged him down the stairs, gently dropping him into a chair.

Dean stayed with him while Sam went to the kitchen for their first aid kit and a wet flannel. When he was walking back, he overheard Dean and Cass talking.

"Dean, what happened? Are you cured?"

"No, Cass, but calm down, we'll get you fixed up and I can explain later," Dean said in a calming but firm tone.

Sam finally walked back into the main room, putting the kit on the table and opening it, taking out the necessary things.

First, he used the flannel to gently wipe away the blood on his face, taking note of the split lip, bleeding nose and numerous cuts and bruises on his face.

Dean did the same on his knuckles, grimacing at the sticky drying blood on his hands. Sam used some butterfly stitches and soothing alcohol wipes on the cuts but was unable to do anything for the split lip and nose. He pressed a few pills into Cass's hands, watching as he threw them to the back of his throat and swallowed them.

It probably wouldn't do much for an angel but it might work a little bit.

When they were done, Sam tidied away the kit, leaving it to the side and sitting down at the table, across from Cass. Dean sat on the actual table and Sam shot him a quick bitch-face before turning his attention to Cass again.

"So, uh, what happened Cass?"

"Crowley happened," Cass replied in his usual gruff tone. "I went to him for help when I realized that I couldn't get into the bunker or even contact you for help in curing Dean," he said while looking at Sam. "It didn't work, obviously, and instead he beat me."

Cass said this in an overly casual tone, as though it wasn't a common occurrence, and to be honest, it was true.

Sam and Dean looked at each other before sighing.

"Well," Dean said, "turns out we might not need him anyway."

Cass looked confusedly between them before seemingly retreating to his mind for a few seconds, returning looking somewhat less confused.

"You aren't a full demon anymore, are you?" Dean shook his head in response, but still let his eyes fade into black for a second. "But you aren't cured either?"

This time Sam shook his head. "But we have a plan," Sam replied, "to make him fully human."

The brothers hesitated for a second before continuing. "I am going to cure Dean using my own blood, which by the way, is the only condition of Dean being cured. Otherwise, he stays as a demon."

Cass's jaw dropped and he quickly looked between Sam and Dean.

"What?!" It was silent for a few seconds. "And you want to be cured?"

Dean rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yes, Cass, I do. While you weren't here, some psycho snatched Sammy and kept him in their barn for days, torturing and breaking him. If my mind wasn't so clouded by wanting to slice up every bitch that talks to me, I'd have probably found him sooner." He shoots Sam a guilty look and Sam gently smiles at him in return. "I guess it made me human."

"Are you okay now, Sam?" Cass says, surprised, looking Sam over for injuries. He noted the gauze still on Sam's neck with

"Yeah, Cass, I'm fine thanks. Just sore and having nightmares, but that's nothing new," Sam says dryly.

Cass heaves a sigh of relief, slouching again slightly, grimacing at his ribs.

"You do realize that this might not work, right?" Dean and Sam nodded, somber, but hopeful.

Cass breathes deeply and thinks for a few seconds. "Well, why Sam's blood?"

Here Dean blushes, turning away from Sam and Cass. Sam, too, would actually like to know the answer to this but knowing Dean, it'd be as complex and confusing as Dean himself and instead just went along with it, wanting his brother back.

"No reason, Cass. That's just the way it is."

Cass looked at Dean intensely for a few seconds, seeming to see his actual soul, before nodding sharply.

"We need to take the demon blood into consideration," Cass said, pulling himself into a standing position. "How do you plan to do this?"

Here, Sam also turned to Dean, interested in what he would say.

"Well, you tie me down again - better, this time - and Sam gives me his blood. Injection, cup, I don't care. Cass, I want you there to make sure Sammy's okay and to make sure I don't somehow bust out of the ropes or whatever."

Cass nodded before reaching a hand up to his head, crinkling his eyes. "Perhaps we could start this when I feel better."

There was a communal agreement and Cass retired to Sam's room to watch more Netflix, seemingly his hobby these days.

Sam began reading the book from earlier again, making a few notes on blood consumption. The Men of Letters were truly well informed, but even they didn't have a lot of information on curing someone with blood that had previously been tainted with demon blood. Sam's eyes continue to flick over to the handcuffs off to the side, filled with guilt and somehow, arousal.

He shook his head, turning back to the book again, determined for this to work. Otherwise, he'd have to put up with his brother this way forever. And that was quite possibly the worst thing Sam had heard since hearing that his dad had gone missing, 10 long years ago.

-

Later that night, Sam had been dragged away from the book by Dean, who forced Cass to surface from his pit in Sam's bedroom.

"C'mon Sammy, you need to eat. I know Cass doesn't, but he could return to the land of living for a while. Binge-watching isn't good, even for an angel."

Soon enough, all three of them were sat around the kitchen table, with Sam tucking into a hearty burger and salad. He was going to protest regarding the burger but decided that it was probably time for him to relax a little, considering he really needed to heal.

Cass looked remarkably better, his bruises quickly fading from his grace. He said he didn't want to actually heal himself, saving his power for helping Sam heal Dean. Sam looked grateful and guilty but Cass brushed it off, accepting the beer that Dean handed to him. It wouldn't quench his thirst, as he didn't actually get thirsty, but it would give him something to do with his hands. 

Dean didn't need to eat either, still being partially demon, but he knew it'd make Sam feel better if he did and was determined to eat the ashen-tasting burger. While eating, Sam thought back on the past 10 years of hunting with Dean. A lot had happened in that time frame, especially regarding saving the world. Perhaps if they hadn't been so determined to save people, the apocalypse would've ruined the world and Lucifer would've ruined it further.

In Sam's honest opinion, the world owed a lot to him and Dean, even Cass. Yeah, maybe they fucked up every now and then, but they certainly fixed it too. Right now, there was no imminent threat and yet Sam still felt the tension in his body, as if he was waiting for the next monster to surface and kill people. He was actually sick of the feeling, wishing for something more, something better, especially considering the recent developments in his relationship with Dean. So yeah, while he enjoyed hunting and saving people and saving the whole ass ungrateful world, he would enjoy actually living the rest of his life happily with Dean, too. Probably more than their current life.

Ah well, he thought, turning his attention back to Dean and Cass, the former currently taking the piss out of the latter.

Sam chortled, rolling his eyes, continuing to munch down on his admittedly delicious burger. Maybe things can change, he thought, maybe we'll all be okay. He looked around the table again, smiling slightly. Yeah, things will be okay.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in 1 day? what blasphemy is this?! nah, i'm just having a productive day. :) here!! (sorry the smut is awful, certainly isn't my strong point :/)

3 days later, Sam and Cass were stood over Dean, handcuffed and roped to the rickety chair in their so-called dungeon.

Sam currently had a needle deep in his vein and blood was spurting into the tube of the syringe. Dean looked thirsty, almost drooling at the sight of his Sammy's blood. Surprisingly enough, both Sam and Cass could see the slight bulge in Dean's crotch area when he spread his legs invitingly. As much as Sam wanted to, he didn't respond, instead deciding to stop raising the plunger of the syringe and Cass delegated to turn away, putting the sight down to how overtly sexual demons could be.

Sam approached Dean with the syringe, his mind unwillingly flipping back to what happened last time they were in this position. The difference this time is that Dean actually wanted to be cured. And, of course, Sam was the one giving up his blood.

Dean, when he was standing a few inches away, syringe raised, decided to offer up his neck for the needle. He titled his head to the side, showing off the lightly tanned sheen of his neck. Sam gulped, ignoring the arousing smirk, and pressed the needle in. Dean made a soft sound and Sam grimaced, waiting for him to break out and snap his neck or something.

Nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Sam was able to press the plunger down, almost feeling sick at the sight of his own blood disappearing into his brother. He felt like he could see swirling blackness inside his blood, some leftover motif of the demon blood he'd inhaled years ago. Surely it should be gone by now, right? He shook his head and the image left his mind, finally returning to where the remains of the blood were forced into Dean's neck.

He yanked the needle out, smiling slightly at the grunt Dean made, who'd seemed to relax minutely when the blood entered his body. Was that a good thing? Sam had no idea.

He moved away from his brother and almost walked into Cass behind him. He also decided to move away from Cass's questioning eyes - that could wait till later, whatever he was confused about.

Instead, he forced the small needle back into his arm, drawing the blood out, before removing it and placing it on the surgical table for later. For now, they had to monitor the effects of the first syringe of blood.

-

Half an hour later, Dean sighed in boredom, no longer feeling the need to kill anyone being deemed as dull. He wasn't even insulting his brother or Cass, just wanting this to be over.

Speaking of, Sam was on the other side of the folding shelves, looking through the boxes for something interesting. Cass decided to stay where he was, watching Dean intently, ever being the good angel.

Dean decided to have a little fun, smirking at the angel, who didn't actually seem to notice. He spread his legs slightly again, rolling his neck while making a show of it. His eyes slipped closed and he groaned slightly, tensing his arms. Of course, he wouldn't actually do anything, but he did want to see Cass's reaction to his body. And, of course, he wasn't disappointed. When he opened his eyes again, Castiel was blushing, looking at anything but Dean.

Dean grinned, happy with his result. That was handy to know.

"Sammy! Time for the next one, don't you think?" Cass was shook out of wherever his mind went to and moved out of the way when Sam opened the shelving units again. Sam smiled at Dean gently before picking up the syringe from the table, moving closer to his brother.

When he was stood in front of him again, Dean decided to have a little more fun, and opened his mouth slightly, looking up at Sam with innocence shining in his eyes. Sam swallowed when he noticed, shaking his head at Dean's antics.

"Really?" he muttered, raising the syringe. Dean didn't say anything, allowing his mouth to open a little wider.

Sam sighed, hesitant, before pointing the needle towards Dean's mouth, pressing the plunger.

The blood spurted out of the end, landing on Dean's tongue, dripping off and moving around his mouth. Sam was ashamed to admit, the but sight was delicious, especially when it definitely shouldn't have been.

When the blood ran out, Sam moved away, releasing a heavy breath at the mouthful of blood. Dean's mouth closed around it and he swallowed, gulping down the blood.

Sam almost dropped the syringe when Dean opened his mouth again and a droplet of blood slipped out, stopping on the slight incline of his bottom lip. Dean's tongue darted out and licked it up. The whole room was silent for a few seconds, or minutes - Sam wouldn't know, his mind and eyes far too fixed on Dean's mouth, Dean's eyes, Dean's face.

The spell was broken when Dean grinned, his pearly white teeth coated in a fine layer of blood. Sam inhaled sharply and faced away, putting the syringe down again. He noticed Cass in the corner, looking just as interested and enchanted as he probably did. Sam laughed quietly, somehow not surprised at Castiel's interest in his brother. Most people were and an angel certainly wasn't an exception. Perhaps that could be explored later but for now, he left it at the back of his mind and instead turned to leave for a while, hiding his painful erection as he went.

In his mind, he cursed Dean for being so... being so _Dean_.

He left the dungeon entirely, closing the door behind him and went in search of something to drink - something that wasn't his own blood, he thought, slightly maniacal, itching the medical tape and gauze still on his neck.

-

He returned about 15 minutes later to see Castiel stood outside the room, blushing brightly and looking somewhat frustrated.

"What is it?" Sam was alarmed, but Cass seemed relaxed, so he calmed down minutely. At least no one was dying or escaping again, he thought sarcastically.

Castiel just rolled his eyes, trying to act nonchalant. "Just Dean, being Dean."

Sam nodded, laughing. "I get that. What's he done now?"

Cass opened his mouth to reply but stopping short. "Nothing," he muttered. "Let's just finish the cure."

Sam agreed and they opened the door again, going inside.

"Sammy! Change of plans," Dean said with a cheeky grin on his face. He laughed at Sam's confused look before focusing his eyes on the bite mark underneath the gauze.

It took Sam a few minutes to realize where he was looking but when he did, he glared.

"No, Dean, I'm not doing that."

"Doing what?" Castiel asked, looking between them, his face a picture of befuddlement.

"Nothing," Sam muttered, but Dean laughed.

"C'mere Sammy! Be a good sport," his voice littered with laughter and persuasion. "Don't you want me cured? Don't you want your brother back?"

Sam sighed, tugged between morals and sanity or having his brother back. Castiel seemed to take initiative and stepped back, unwilling to interrupt whatever was about to happen. Sam looked back to Dean, seeing truth, warmth and overpowering arousal in his eyes. What to do, what to do...

"What about Cass?" he said, finally.

"He can stay and watch if you like. I know he wants to." Dean said and Sam looked at him pointedly but finally nodded. "Alrighty then, c'mon over here."

Sam slowly approached his brother, taking note of Castiel in the corner of the room and his evident arousal at what Dean was saying.

"H-How do you wanna do this?" Sam replied, reaching a hand up to his neck.

"Ah, ah." Dean jingled his handcuffs, his intention clear. Sam nodded, pulling the key out of his jeans pocket and going behind the chair, unlocking the handcuffs.

As soon as they were off and left on the floor, Dean reached out and snatched one of Sam's hands, pulling him around to face him.

Sam went pliantly. They were still for a few seconds, deeply looking in each other's eyes, silent communication of '_is this okay_' and '_yes dean, it's fine, i promise, i want this too_' and '_thank you, Sammy, thank you_'.

Dean tugged Sam even closer and Sam went easily, dropping down into Dean's lap. His thighs were either side of Dean's thighs and his ass was spread over Dean's knees. They both heard Cass's inhale of surprise and smiled gently at each other.

Dean reached up, using his thumb and forefinger to peel the medical tape off his skin, pulling the gauze away.

Sam grimaced at the feeling of the scab pulling away, revealing the sore and bruised bite underneath. It was certainly slow at healing but Sam couldn't complain, loving the feeling of the ownership mark far too much. Every time he had turned and twisted his neck, a twinge of pain shot through him, causing his blood to pool in his lower body. Now, though, he mostly felt overwhelming love and neediness for Dean and bared the mark to him.

He brother immediately latched on to his neck, sucking and nipping, bringing the blood back to the surface.

Sam's breath quickened and he gripped Dean's biceps tightly, his hair falling into his face. His jeans continued to become increasingly uncomfortable around his cock. He ground his hips down into Dean's, reveling at the feeling of Dean's hands around his waist, possessive and needy.

He knew when the bite started bleeding again, feeling Dean imperceptibly shudder and swallow, and Sam's own eyes slipped shut.

After a few minutes of sucking and licking at his neck, Dean's hand reached around to fondle the front of Sam's pants, unzipping them and dipping inside, gripping his dick in a calloused and yet gentle hand. Off to the side of the room, Cass seemed to shuffle before coming closer, stretching his hand out, glowing with grace.

His first two fingers gently brushed across Sam's forehead and suddenly, Sam's bite started pouring with more blood, helped along by Castiel.

Dean groaned in contentment, nodding at Castiel in thanks.

Castiel suddenly turned and left the room but neither brother could stop what they were doing to run after him.

Sam bucked his hips into Dean's hands, desperate for something, anything.

Dean seemed to know exactly what he wanted, never stopping his ministrations of Sam's neck, swallowing blood every few seconds while pumping his hand over his brother's cock, slick with Sam's own precum, harder than it had ever felt before.

After a few minutes, Sam could feel his orgasm quickly approaching and allowed it to wash over him, stuttering out Dean's name as he came all over his hand.

"D-Dean, fuck, please..."

"Yes, Sammy, mine, all mine, fuck, I love you," Dean kept whispering between sucking and biting at his neck, "fucking beautiful, fuckin mine, gorgeous..."

When Sam came down from his high, he dropped further into Dean's arms, wrapping his hands over Dean's neck and into his hair.

Dean continued to inhale blood from his neck but after a few minutes, his teeth left Sam eventually and he sighed, pulling his Sammy even closer.

The brother's continued to sit for a few minutes, breathing heavily and holding onto each other tightly.

Dean finally released his grip on Sam's waist, holding him at arm's length, inspecting the bite mark. Thanks to the grace that Cass had used on Sam, the bleeding had stopped almost immediately and was actually allowing the bite to heal.

Sam grinned at Dean, running his thumb over Dean's bottom lip before sticking it in his mouth, sucking it.

Dean's grin slowly grew before saying, "looks I'm all human now, Sammy, thanks to all that blood."

Sam threw his head back and guffawed, sliding off Dean's lap. He zipped his jeans back up, simultaneously tucking his dick back into his boxers. Once done, he cut the ropes tying Dean down and pulled him up into a crushing hug.

"We did it," Sam whispered, suddenly overcome by a wave of emotions, "we actually did it."

Dean chuckled in his ear before pulling away. "C'mon Sammy, we need to get some food in you after that blood loss."

Sam nodded but held Dean still again; "we need to find Cass, too."

Dean patted his shoulder, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the dungeon. "Yeah, 'course we do. _He's our angel._"

Sam agreed and let himself be pulled along by his brother - and now, maybe, lover.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahh! the last chapter of this part! i am definitely going to continue this, but in another part. i want it to be a curtain/retirement fic, as the show is ending now and i want to end it my own way, the way *i* think it should end. anyway, this isn't the end. please enjoy and don't forget to comment - even if it's criticism :)

An hour later, Sam was fully hydrated and full of food, at Dean's insistence, and now both of them were searching the bunker for Castiel.

After Dean was cured in a less than 'traditional' way, Cass had taken off, disappearing into the depths of the bunker and neither brother had any idea why. Was he scared? Embarrassed? Something else entirely? Either way, he certainly knew how to avoid the brothers, effortlessly hiding away. It didn't help that neither Sam nor Dean had actually explored all of the bunker yet; it was far too big, a mammoth task that they hadn't had the time for, yet.

Sam sighed, retracing his steps for the third time, ensuring he didn't get lost. He heard Dean shout his name and took off, jogging back into the library.

Dean actually looked just as lost and confused as him. "Where the hell could he be?" He gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke, looking around their home.

Sam shrugged, dropping into one of the chairs around the table and Dean followed his example.

"He'll come back when he's ready, Dean, you know Cass. He's an angel rebelling against the purpose of his creation. If Heaven can't find him, then I doubt we can. He'll surface when he's okay."

Dean nodded, still warily looking around, clearly trying to reassure himself with Sam's words.

"Sammy, are we doing the right thing here?" Dean's voice was heavy with blatant worry and hesitancy.

Sam blinked in shock at the sudden chick-flick territory before answering. "What do you mean?"

Dean sighed, running a hand over his weary face, digging his thumb into the grooves on the table. "Sam, we're brothers and we literally fucked each other. I was a demon less than 2 hours ago. We have an angel for a best friend. I mean, is this really what our lives are gonna be like now?" He took on a hysterical note and Sam immediately put a hand over Dean's on the table.

"Dean, we've saved this world more times than I can count. We've both been to Hell for the greater good of the people on this earth. I mean, we should be dead, we should've died many many years ago and yet we are still here. If anything, I'd say we deserve a break. As for being brothers, well-"

"you're soulmates."

They both jumped at the interruption, looking to the side. Castiel was stood at the entrance to the library, looking disheveled and slightly guilty.

"Cass, are you okay?" Both brothers leaped to their feet but Castiel waved them away, coming to sit down on the chair next to Dean.

"As I said, you're soulmates. In the eyes of the Heaven, your soul is split in two, shared between two vessels, never whole or complete without the other. You were supposed to be one single person, but fate somehow made a mistake and clearly, two brothers were born instead."

When he paused, Sam and Dean looked at each other in confusion.

"A-Are you sure?" Dean said, extremely serious and slightly shocked.

Castiel nodded and continued to speak. "Sam is right, however. This world owes you a lot for what you have done. I doubt anyone would be surprised if you decided to retire and live out the rest of your lives together. You'd certainly deserve it."

Sam smiled internally but looked at Dean hopefully, knowing that Dean wouldn't just stop hunting suddenly, who's jaw dropped at Cass's words.

"You mean we can stop? Fuck off to some farm or something and just... _stop_?"

Castiel nodded again, a small smile forming. "Is that what you want?"

Dean retreated in his mind for a moment before looking at Sam.

"What about you? What do you want?"

"Me? Well uh, I wouldn't mind retiring but Dean, I know that's not what you want. You told me that a few years ago. You live for hunting. I'm not gonna hold you back from that."

Dean shook his head, sighing. "Sammy, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and I don't wanna be doing this shit forever. We're getting old, Sam. Older than I thought I'd ever be, but that just makes me wanna keep going. I don't know, maybe we can actually have a chance at a normal life now, y'know? You could go back to college or whatever, I can find a job to keep myself busy, and Cass can do whatever he wants. We'd never have to stop hunting entirely, we could just take on Bobby's role, help out other hunters and send them hunts or whatever. Just create a safe base for hunters or something."

About halfway through Dean's words, Sam started nodding along, wanting a different life more and more. Would they be able to stop hunting and have a somewhat normal life?

"Dean... I want that more than anything. I actually want to grow old with you and Cass. I don't want to die at the hands of a demon or some monster."

Dean laughed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah-"

"Wait, why did you say my name?" Castiel's voice sounds lost and confused and Sam immediately pities him.

"What do you mean, Cass? Of course, you're coming with us!"

"You want me to come with you to retire from hunting?"

Dean pats Castiel on the back, probably a touch too hard if Castiel's jolt is anything to go by. "'Course we do, Cass."

Both brother's smile at him reassuringly and Cass allows a slight grin to grow, patting Dean's hand still on his shoulder.

"So, when do we go? What do we do? How do we go about this?" Sam's questions were very valid but neither Dean nor Castiel seemed to be able to answer him.

"Well, what's wrong with now?" Cass piped up and after thinking it through for a few seconds, Sam and Dean agreed.

"We'll need to contact a few people and pack up first. We could find somewhere before we go or look on the road. What are we doing with the bunker?"

Dean thought for a moment before standing up, releasing Cass's shoulder. "We'll take some things and lock the bunker up behind us. If a hunter needs it, we'll come by with them. I mean, it went uninhabited for years. I'm sure a few more won't hurt. Sam, you can pack, you're a lot more efficient than me. Cass, gather the books and artifacts we might need and put them by the stairs. I'll contact a few other hunters, Charlie and Jody and then call for a U-Haul so we can leave."

Sam nodded and stood up too, already leaving to the bedrooms, taking a few duffle bags from underneath the stairs as he walked. Dean was right; he'd be able to pack clothes and items better than he could. He giggled slightly as he went, suddenly filled with an overwhelming feeling of giddiness. Things are changing yet again, he thought.

Back in the library, Castiel stood slowly, his face still unsure. "You really want me to come with you?" he muttered in Dean's direction.

"Cass, you know we do. Stop worrying about it and pack some books. There are boxes and bags under the stairs." Cass nodded, smiling again, before leaving.

When he was alone, Dean laughed loudly, already pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing a number.

"Charlie! Nice to hear from you. Me and Sammy, we have some news...."

-

3 hours later, they regrouped in the library again. 4 duffle bags were laid next to each other, containing numerous articles of clothing and items from Dean and Sam's bedrooms. When he'd done that, Sam joined in on helping Castiel, grabbing books that seemed like they'd be useful in the coming months. They wouldn't need a lot, considering they could always come back to the bunker at any time. Sam also shoved any food from the kitchen into another box, not wanting to come back in 6 months to an infestation of flies on rotting food.

While they packed, Sam and Castiel discussed their plans for the upcoming months; Castiel wanted to actually enjoy being seen as a human instead of an angel while Sam wanted to get a job or finish studying, maybe even plant a crop or two. Throughout packing, they could hear Dean at the table in the library, discussing the situation with hunters. A few were shocked and some seemed angry about losing 2 extremely good - perhaps the best - hunters, but Dean paid them no mind, but most seemed happy with their decision. Charlie and Jody promised to help them move when they had a few spare moments, for which Dean was extremely grateful. Once he'd finished contacting the necessary people, he called the local U-Haul and ordered a trailer for later that day at 6.

At last, the three men finally sat down again, heaving a sigh of relief. At this point, it was 5 o clock and they were almost fully packed; they had all the necessary clothes, some bedding, food for the road and a new dream in mind. While contacting hunters, Dean had been suggested a few properties ranging from actual farms to regular flats to your run-of-the-mill houses in streets with neighbors and all that.

Together, they had an hour to decide between a few properties while Sam ran some credit card scams, gathering as much money as possible for the property they would like. Most likely, they would try and buy it outright, meaning any money they made while living there could be spent on repairs and whatnot. A few hunters had even been willing to transfer them some money, excited about the prospect of having a safe base with good knowledge. Dean thought that they probably missed Bobby and his aid after his death. Dean graciously accepted their offers, eventually amassing a couple of thousand dollars from hunters. Sam managed to scrape together a good few thousand from the scams too, and combining the amounts with the money from the hunters and their own savings, they probably had just enough for a property of their liking.

For the remaining hour before the U-Haul arrived, they sat at the table and decided on a new place to live. Sam decided it would be a good idea to choose beforehand so they knew where they were driving rather than aimlessly travelling the country.

To choose from, there were 12 farms across the entire states, a few flats in the northern states and even a good chunk of houses. Some were nearby while other's would be a few days (or even weeks) drive. Between them, they argued which one would be better; a farm with a lot of room but being less accessible, flats which were much more accessible but less privacy and more expensive, or a house. There weren't really any bad or good things about the house, but it was probably a little small to house other hunters and all of the items they'd need.

Sam and Cass agreed on choosing a farm while Dean was torn between a house or farm but in the end, he agreed to own a farm. They all knew it'd be very hard upkeep, especially if they eventually got livestock or grew crops, but Sam said that was just part of the fun, really.

From the 12 farms, one stood out the most; a large farm in central Nebraska, pretty much a stone's throw from the bunker and all-round perfect. It was relatively centered in the country and had been empty for many years, according to the realtor online. A fellow hunter suggested it, as the hunter had been in the area a few years back for a hunt.

All three of them eventually agreed on the property, especially as they had enough money for it - this was probably down to the fact that it required a lot of TLC and was probably pretty overrun and decrepit. Dean didn't seem to care, probably up to the task for fixing it in his own time - which Sam was content to let him do.

With that decided, they took all of their luggage upstairs and outside, content to wait for the U-Haul, prepared for the next adventure of their life.

Dean was the last one to leave, bunker key in hand and Impala keys in the other. He looked behind his shoulder to see Sam and Castiel sat on a nearby wall together, animatedly talking to each other. Dean smiled, gentle and soft, and inserted the key.

The lock clicked shut.

"C'mon, you two! Start loading the car, you lazy sons-a-bitches!"

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song: (Don't Fear) The Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult (1976)
> 
> any feedback is appreciated. :] thanks for reading!!


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